Category Archives: Survivor

Smile

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She’s always swimming against the flow of the thick soup

With a history of purple bruises and invisible arrows

Scratching her head at the cross roads

Sarah only smiles when she sees the cues

When she falls she’s bounces

The scars heal quickly

While the aura slowly bleeds

Every choice accompanied by a thorny rose

Beautiful and brilliant further away form familiar tortures

Into the arms of the sweet unknown

Sarah only smiles when she can

The breaks heal quickly

While the mind screams silently

She’s dancing in the kitchen twirling in the smoke

Leaving the African Potteries crushed beneath

Pulling sufferers out of the soup

Into the freedom of understanding

Sarah only smiles to soothe them

Sarah only smiles

When she can

©Mints and Wisdom 2016

McDad; Still an abuser

Firstly let me start by issuing you a warning;

If you are offended by foul language please do not read this post.

I’ve decided to write the follow up to yesterday’s post ‘McDad; The Bully’. It essentially the interaction that took place yesterday which prompted the first in what may well become the McDad series.

One of my abusers methods was to keep me silent and separated from friends and family. He did this to some extent to his siblings who feel they have to be loyal. So relationships could not be formed and he could behave as he pleased. In his current relationship, whilst I can not say whether he has been violent to his partner he has certainly encouraged separation between her, his family, his daughter and me; he has repeated this pattern.

If one woman, or man, who is currently living through the hell and torture of domestic violence finds some strength, comfort or avenue to express themselves because of my posts I will have achieved something. And I am here if you want a let your experience out. Message me and I will listen.

domviol

Please bear in mind that the last time I was in the same space as McDad or spoke to him was on December 18th 2012 also at a school event.

I have in that time sent him 2 emails asking whats happening with his payments.

No build up. Let’s get straight to the incident.

Yesterday was my daughters, Inny, class’s turn to present the school assembly. It was based on Africa, mostly water purification. She put a great deal of effort into remembering the lines that she had been given, learning the songs and collecting all the African out fits she owned so that other children were dressed the part. She managed to rustle up 10 outfits and I found something suitable for her teacher too!

They all looked fabulous, sang beautifully and delivered their lines with humor.
I arrived on time and took my seat in the front row.

She had invited McDad who arrived with his mother, affectionately known in our house as ‘Super-gran’, 5 minutes into the performance.

Once the performance was over the rest of the school filed out leaving the 30 performers, their parents and a few teachers to mingle and take pictures. Which we all did.

Super-gran took the opportunity to say hi to a few other parents that she had not seen in a while and Inny was running round the hall with her brightly dressed friends.

I approached McDad and this is the conversation that followed;

Hi, can I have a quick word

WHAT (aggravated)

What’s happening with maintenance money? McDad has not contributed anything in 2013 so far.

WHAT THE FUCK! I TOLD YOU I DONT HAVE A JOB!

(Fact; he has not told me this. His last communication regarding money was in November 2012 when he said he was having an issue with a supplier)

Okay so you don’t have a job but you should still communicate and keep me updated.

‘WHAT! WHEN I CALL YOUR PHONE DO YOU ANSWER?!’

McDad 9 times out of 10 when you call Inny snatches up the phone and you have a quick conversation, you have never ever asked her to give the phone to me so that you can have a word.

ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION, DO YOU ANSWER THE PHONE?

grabface

Have you ever asked to speak to me?

IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY THE FUCK DON’T YOU CALL ME?

I don’t think that I should have to chase you for anything; I’m bringing her up single handed and pay for everything for our child. It is not my responsibility to chase you around to do your part.

YOU FUCKING FAT FUCKING CUNT! LOOK AT YOU, YOU FAT BITCH! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!

I’m the responsible parent (monotone) not the absent McDonalds dad.

AND WHAT! FUCKING FAT CUNT. YOURE ALONE YOU WILL ALWAYS BE ALONE, ALL MY FAMILY HATES YOU, EVERYONE HATES YOU, YOURE GOING TO DIE ALONE. I TEACH MY DAUGHTER ABOUT FAMILY AND ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS. WHAT ARE YOU BUT A FAT CUNT BITCH? YOU’LL DIE LONELY. I’M GOING TO FUCK YOU UP.

I moved some steps back and he fronted up to me pushing me with his chest and leaning down to whisper in my ear. I’m 5’ 6’’ and he is 6 foot. He was pacing away from me in a circle coming back and hissing obscenities down on me through clenched teeth.

DIE BITCH

I’m no saint and can be passive aggressive so I smiled

These things don’t hurt me the way they used too. Why would they coming from a 3 times convicted criminal who does not provide for his child and can’t hold a job? There’s nothing you can say anymore. I’m just asking you to provide for your child

Then I walked away and went over to his mother. I told her that I was no longer going to have this man anywhere near me or my daughter ever again.

She pulled me in to a corner and I explained what was going on. He then came over and grabbed hold of his mothers’ elbow and tried to pull her towards the door. I asked him to let go of her to which he replied

FUCK OFF YOU FAT BITCH!

As all of this was going on children were running round the hall, parents taking photos. One woman even walked between us as I was moving away from him and her face was a vision of shock at the things he was saying.

I have no doubt in my mind that if we had been out on the street he would have punched me out.

His mother was shocked to say the least. I have told her in the past of his violence but she had never truly witnessed it. She pushed him out of the hall and led me out into the playground.

She was distressed to say the least and we talked for some time then I made my way home.

She called me later to say that when he had calmed down he asked her to drive to pick him up and to bring him over to my home to that we could ‘talk’. She refused.

She came over later in the evening and asked if she could bring him over on Sunday to talk.

I am very clear that I never want him in my home again. I don’t want him near my child ever again.

What has this man got to teach my child?

He is an abuser.

He is violent, verbally, emotionally and physically.

How much longer before he starts to display aggressive behavior to my daughter who approaching the difficult pre-teen years?

As he was strutting around the hall like some caged raging beast with nearly no self-control I asked myself if this man has a mental health problem?

Does he readers?

Or is thinking that letting him off lightly?

Am I wrong to stop her going too Super-Grans for the odd weekend? If I allow her to go there he will turn up and bully his mother into letting him take her out.

I have endured 10 years of intermittent abuse down the phone or his horrible emotional abusive logic. I’ve allowed him to attend birthday parties in my home and after episodes of this kind of behavior have not turned him away. All for the sake of my child being able to maintain a relationship with this man.

When what I should have done was sign the injunction papers that fateful day 10 years I go and ensured that if he came any where near us again he was arrested on the spot.

Certainly this man will not change.

Update; I was advised by my solicitor and a close friend who works with children and family social care to report this incident to the police. I thought it was too late to do that but they both said that it was never too late and for my own protection. I did that yesterday the police were very helpful. The officer asked me to call them if he comes anywhere near me and my children what so ever. It like a weight off my shoulders.

McDad, the bully.

I have a daughter turning 11 this year. Her father and I parted ways when she was a year or so old.

During our relationship he was manipulative, violent, aggressive and a serial cheat.

Now you may wonder how I can to be with this poor excuse of a man in the first instance?

Well the description above conjures up certain images.

Abuse

What it probably does not bring up is a well-dressed, suited and booted middle class, law graduate with a master’s degree in marketing, working as a business manager for the NHS earning £40+

That’s who I initially went on a date with.

The manipulative violent guy didn’t show up until I was five months pregnant. We had been shopping and were driving back home talking about work. I had disagreed with a management strategy he was thinking of using and he decided that I was wrong and punched me in the side of the head, then then drove me to a dark remote council estate and kicked me out of the car without out my bag and drove off.

Over the next 2 years he punched, kicked repeatedly until I could not stand, strangled, spat on, threw things at and yelled abuse at me and trashed our home repeatedly. Often in front of our little girl. He wore me down emotionally and physically; even boasting that he had ‘beat me like i was some bloke down the pub’

It transpired that most of the times were him manipulating arguments so that he could go off in a huff and ‘stay at his mums’ for the weekend.

Stay at his mums equated to staying with the latest girl on the side.

cycle of violence

In the time I lived with him I changed from a healthy contented, confident woman to a friendless, shattered shadow of myself. I lost all confidence.

I often looked back and asked how I let all of it happen. The answers are simple.

I was scared. I was tired. I was financially tied to this creep.

But mostly I was ashamed.

Ashamed that it was happening to me.

Ashamed that this was the father of my child.

Ashamed of him.

I had tried to leave a year earlier. I desperately called various shelters and domestic violence groups. All told me that they would help but only if I cut myself off and this included leaving my job. The rational was that he could follow me to the shelter. Another charity told me that they cold not help me as I had a good job and should simply rent somewhere. As did hackney council.

Now I was willing to move but I was not willing to give up a job that I had worked hard in and moved up the ranks to end up a statistic in the benefits system. I went back home that night and pretended that I had not spend 7 hours phoning every charity or help line I could think of begging for help.

Once I walked bare foot to the local police station with my half-dressed child in my arms and broke down. But I didn’t press charges. Again I went home.

Finally after reporting him to the police several times I found the strength to see the process all the way to the court date.

I knew that I, as a parent owed my daughters a safe and happy life. This wasn’t it. I had to get them away from him.

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I eventually found the strength to press charges against him and he was convicted of breaking and entering with excessive violence, criminal damage and aggravated assault. Lesser charges of theft were dropped.

Going through the process though answered a lot of questions about why women with draw their complaints. The police doctor treated me like some kind of idiot. She rolled her eyes, spoke down at me and I over heard her saying derogatory things about me to an officer.
Photo’s of the injuries, that I had suffered the humiliation of stripping off for, were lost and not available for court.
The final insult was that he got away with a small fine and broke his conditions by turning up at my home, several times, within days, shouting abuse but was not re-arrested and I had to pay for securing the flat and correcting the damage he had caused.

Over the 10 years that have passed, though he also lives in London, he has not had much involvement in our daughters upbringing. There was a school term where he was coming over and taking her to school a few years ago but this ended when he got a job (for which I gave him a reference)……………….. he didn’t bother to let us know that he wouldn’t be turning up……….he just didn’t.
Also during this period he’s had 5 different jobs. Four of which I’ve given him references for. And been sacked from all of them

And he has not supported her financially for almost half of the 10 years. No support at all during 2013 so far. But worse still is no communication. He doesn’t think that he should keep us updated on if or when maintenance will or won’t be coming from him.

So a man with all this time on his hands must devote a good portion of that to being involved in the care of his child. Right?

Errrrm no.

My daughter only sees him if she goes to stay at her paternal grandmothers’ for the weekend.

He paternal grandma has been a true blessing in our lives. She has been a consistent help and is always ready to chip in when it comes to the picking up or dropping off duties or the looking after her when she’s off school sick.

He father is what we English call a McDonalds Dad or as I prefer a McDad.

‘McDad’ Definition; ‘a man who sees his child infrequently and with whom activities mostly involve a movie and a meal at a fast food joint. He may occasionally turn up at a school play, birthdays, Christmas but carries out no parental duties or responsibilities.

It’s took a long time to build my confidence up and get myself to a happy place but a couple of years after we parted I woke one morning realizing it was over and my strength had returned.

My daughter thrives and is a lovely child. In fact both my children are kind and giving, thoughtful and intelligent. Despite the rough start.

The charity Womens’ Aid statistics reveal that 1 in 4 women in the UK will be victims of current or former partners in their lifetimes and 2 women a week are killed by a current or former male partner.

Being that I have seen the loss of self-control and the murderous hateful look in his eyes, I know things could have turned out differently.

(I was prompted to write this post after an awful verbal assault from McDad, who I haven’t seen since December 2012, this morning at my daughters school assembly. I will go on to write about that later as I think I’m not up to it emotionally at the moment. I’m in total shock that anyone would be have that way in public talk less of in a school hall with children running around. It’s been a rough day and i feel extremely weak.) (Please forgive any grammatical errors)

For a better understanding or domestic violence or for support please see the links below;
http://www.refuge.org.uk
http://www.womensaid.org.uk
http://gu.com/p/3eady

CHOOSE (my personal survivor poem)

BirdcageBig
Malevolently enchanted I lay myself open to the people of the lie
And they come smiling sweetly baring their teeth
I fall and weave and scream
At every non-existent blow they wheeled
Panicking at the hologram of worthlessness in me
Confusion, dishonesty, lovelessness
I recede, ebb and flow on moments of mood
Kiss me, caress me, appease the devils
Seconds away from my insanity, some others morality
Shooing off, shooing off
I could open my eyes and search for clarity
Amidst years of brutality, wretchedness, hopefulness
Oh, those hour long moments

Could I choose?

Years as bird in cage
Surrounded by giants murmuring ‘who’s a pretty girlie’
Then sticking fingers between bars to pluck feathers out
Till bald and hurt, battered and bleeding, indifferently, I conceded

Should I choose?

Covertly supposing to know me, open me out to cut down freely, fiercely, cleanly
Using ques foolishly provided by the child within
Desperately clinging to love from loveless frames of shallow knowledge

I can choose

More than fleeting, flying freedom
Starving, breathless images of love
Misinformed, ignorant caricature of knowledge, of goodness
Self-centred, ego-loaded, fair weathered friendship
Pelvic pounding, spirit crushing intrusions of supposed lovers
The domination of mind and body

I choose truth

Self-love, respect and trust
Aloneness, renewal, rebirth
To search for elusive treasure of learning, of growth
To revel in my beauty, the tone of skin, swell of breast, curve of bone
Depths of levels of spirituality
Times of clarity, emotion
Dispelling people of the lie, trying to engross me, own my hope, joy, light
Reclaiming my energy, speaking actually,
De-mystifying complex relationships bringing
Purity, love, fallibility

I choose me

My own sanity, rational, belief
The beauty of my nakedness, tenderness of my thighs, my smile
The simplicity of laughter, the innocence of my child
Choose to hear what I do not say, what others do not say
To say no, say yes
Fight daemons face-to-face, day-to-day
Rise from the ashes, carve, create, dictate my own way
Tow no more lines, step outside
Believe every step, word, slight of hand, every kiss, day, bares choice
I marry myself, in honour, love, in sickness and health
I choose my own growth and plunge into my darkest depths
And re-discover freedom, understanding, compassion, uniqueness

Choose

Truth, enlightenment, love growth
Tend carefully, knowledgably the garden that is self
Choose
Health